


drunks & poets

by queen_edmund_pevensie



Series: Advent 2020 [8]
Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_edmund_pevensie/pseuds/queen_edmund_pevensie
Summary: Niklaus is sixteen now, and he thinks he’s a man now.
Relationships: Elijah Mikaelson/Klaus Mikaelson
Series: Advent 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023931
Kudos: 17





	drunks & poets

**Author's Note:**

> from tumblr prompts: https://laertez.tumblr.com/post/629014997640642560/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a#notes
> 
> #11 klelijah -- things you said when you were drunk

The first time Niklaus ever drinks enough to be drunk, the night is cool and Elijah watches him and Kol roughhouse in the firelight, their laughter buoyed by the good weather they’ve had all summer and the absence of Father. Both means they can get up to as much trouble as they can under Elijah’s watchful eye, and this – playful teasing about a pretty girl Kol has been doing magic tricks to impress, wrestling under the moonlight with the boys from the village who haven’t yet killed and so don’t yet turn into wolves, howling and yapping at their older brothers and each other. These are the kinds of nights that Elijah will always remember. The nights that will make him ache to be human.  
For now, though, Elijah watches his brothers drink to be drunk for the first time, the redness on their cheeks from the cold or from the uncut wine they pass around the fire, telling ghost stories. Niklaus is sixteen now, and he thinks he’s a man now. They can all tell by the set of his shoulders and the smirk he wears around like it will stop Father’s scorn. It has, but barely, which makes Niklaus dig his heels in more, act more like he knows the world and it’s cruelties than he does. It makes him, Elijah thinks sadly, act more and more like Father. But tonight, there’s no trace of Mikael’s mercurial nature on his face, and all that’s left is Niklaus the boy – who hasn’t killed anything bigger than a fish, who has never kissed anyone, not even Tatia, who he watches with longing and trepidation, and who, for the first time, lets himself be whisked away into the playful drunkenness of adolescence.

Later, much later, when everyone else has gone to bed, Elijah walks with Niklaus along the river. Father came home early, broke up the revelry, chewed out Elijah for letting things get out of hand, and hit Niklaus hard enough across the face that even in the low light of flickering torches from the village and the waning moon, Elijah can see the bruise swelling under his eye, the boyishness wiped from his lips. He isn’t really crying anymore; instead his face is twisted into a deep scowl, his eyes far away and unfocused, something terrifying, something alien, behind them. Something like Father’s rage. Something so unlike Father’s rage Elijah can’t even name it.  
Then, Niklaus stumbles, and Elijah catches him. “Careful,” he hisses. “Perhaps we should sit for a while, Niklaus?” Niklaus doesn’t say anything in protest as Elijah helps lower him to the ground. Groaning, Niklaus, sixteen and drunk and hated, buries his head between his knees.  
“Do you think…?” Niklaus’ voice is muffled by his legs and being buried in the soft sound of rushing water, but Elijah could hear him across the oceans if that was what separated them. “Do you think Father is right to hate me?”  
Questions like this have ceased to startle Elijah, but it doesn’t change the heavy way they settle in his stomach. Niklaus lifts his head, touches his cheek experimentally and winces. “No,” Elijah says, staring not at his brother, but across the river. All those years ago, Niklaus asked him to run. Fear stopped him then, fear for his own life, fear for Rebekah and Kol, leaving them behind when Father was so unpredictable, so violent. Not fear for Niklaus, for what he had to endure while he stayed, for what he still had to endure as long as Father lived. It wasn’t fair of Elijah to force Niklaus to stay, to have thought of everyone’s happiness but Niklaus’. But Elijah can’t tell him that; he would only laugh, tell him that he was a coward for trying to run, that Elijah was right to keep him at home – they would have both been dead in a matter of weeks, if not days.  
And he would probably have been right, if Elijah hadn’t been so afraid that Niklaus was going to run with or without him that he confessed to Mother – and Mother told Father, and Father punished Niklaus for being a deserter by chaining him to the table so he couldn’t escape for forty eight hours. Elijah never told him how Father had found out he planned to run.  
“Then why?” he begs mournfully, turning to face Elijah. “Why don’t…why don’t you hate me, Elijah?” That question does startle Elijah. He’s never questioned his love for his brother, it’s always been as simple as breathing, a part of life. He was given five siblings, and he loved each of them like they were a part of himself. He wouldn’t know how to live without loving them. But to answer Niklaus’ question, to answer it in the negative. Elijah can’t fathom why Father treats Niklaus the way he does, let alone what could happen between them that would make Elijah. “Elijah?” Niklaus presses, desperation bleeding into his voice. He turns more, not just his face, his whole body. His knees are sinking into the muddy bank of the river. “Do you think anyone will love me?”  
Niklaus is looking up at him with cloudy eyes, thinking of something else entirely now. This is even more startling. “Is this because of Father?” Elijah asks. He gets no answer, but of course it is. Women – Mikael told them all moments ago, don’t like drunks and poets; they like warriors and hunters, and Niklaus is much more like the former than he will ever be the latter. His brother sways slightly. “You are fierce enough to make anyone lucky enough to be your wife,” Elijah promises, grabbing Niklaus’ shoulders to steady him before he tumbles into the river. “How much did you have to drink?”  
“Enough.” Niklaus grasps Elijah’s arms, fingernails clawing into his skin. “In spite of everything, you love me, Elijah.” He is certain, confident that this is true, and that there is an everything to forgive. That somehow, Mikael sees into his heart where the others are blind to his faults; except Elijah. Niklaus believes Elijah knows him, his secrets and his darkness, whatever he believes they might be, and Elijah stays with him, here, anyway. It’s hard to argue with those eyes, to tell him that there’s nothing Niklaus could ever do to drive Elijah away, and even if there was, Niklaus doesn’t deserve the vitriol Father throws his way, and he is a man, a good man, the kind of man Elijah is proud to call his brother.  
Clasping back, Elijah stares into his brother’s faraway eyes. “You are worth it,” he says. It is a fraction of the way that he feels. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to put in words what Niklaus means to him.  
A second shock – the shock of Niklaus’ lips against his, earnest and intense. Elijah is glad for the dark, to hide this, to hide how he does not push Niklaus away right away, how he kisses his brother back for a fraction of a second longer than would account for the shock. But the kiss is soft and gentle, and Niklaus’ nose cool against his cheek, and in the moment before Elijah registers that this is wrong, it feels perfect, meant to be.  
The moment passes. Blushing, Elijah pulls Niklaus off of him by the shoulders. “Niklaus –” Stern, important, commanding older brother Elijah must resume control over the situation, not the brother who is consumed by his devotion to Niklaus, who thought for maybe a second that if that is what Niklaus wanted then he could want it to, that maybe he already did.  
“I love you, Elijah,” Niklaus says, like he’s already forgotten. Maybe he has. “I wanted to thank you for loving me.” Elijah sighs and stands, heaving his brother up along with him. Niklaus is drunk, and he’s stupid, sixteen. A man, but barely. Not in the ways that matter. He’s a boy in all other respects, and it’s easy to forget when he talks like the weight of the world is dragging behind him, like he’s deserving of Father’s punishments. Niklaus won’t remember this in the morning. He’s already forgotten, talking of flowers and moonlight and the rushing river he plans to paint.  
But Elijah cannot forget even a second of life he shares with his brother. And he can’t forget this.


End file.
